


The Welder and the Waitress

by Binaryfrog



Series: Past Lives [2]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Asylum
Genre: AU, F/M, Interactive, Interactive Fiction, Reader-Interactive, WWII, World War Two
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 13:52:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5542322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Binaryfrog/pseuds/Binaryfrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are a waitress at a small diner in the middle of town. You've had your eyes set on Kit Walker for a while now and he finally makes a move.</p><p>Excerpt:<br/>“Shit,” you swear under your breath and jump up from your stool, stumbling as you try to slip on your heels, “We gotta split. If boss man comes by for something and sees I've let a customer stay this late past closing he'll have my head.” You watch his eyes fall, but then his face brightens. You can see the gears clicking in his head as he tries to think up a solution and you wonder what he's thinking.</p><p>He grabs your hand and leads you towards the front door, grabbing his coat off the coat tree,“Come on I know a place we can go”. The movement is so sudden you freeze, but he waits for a moment and looks back at you, “Unless you don't want to...”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Welder and the Waitress

**Author's Note:**

> This series is currently on hiatus indefinitely, sorry for the inconvenience. I do not want to orphan it because I feel like I'll come back to it eventually, but right now I have no motivation to write it. Keep your hopes up! It may return sooner than you think.
> 
> The beginning of the second story in my WWII AU series entitled Past Lives. I hope you enjoy. This is work is interactive so I would suggest downloading the chrome extension InteractiveFics.

 

It's warm behind the counter at the diner tonight; not warmer than usual but it's catching you attention. You can sense the heat coming from the grill in the kitchen behind you and it's nice but annoying. The sensation reminds you of yourself as a child standing in front of the fireplace, too hot to be comfortable, but not hot enough to move and be cold. You smile to yourself and gaze around the deserted diner. There are three people in tonight, none of them regulars. Jude is talking to one from behind the counter. She turns to drink from a flask before laughing at a joke he said. It was her fake laugh and the joke was less than creative. The older woman had a knack for picking up extra from the inattentive. There's a couple in the corner that catches your eye, sitting on opposite sides of the table. The woman is without doubt well to do, even though she wears a head scarf and dainty sunglasses. _Try harder sweetheart, I mean Jesus everyon_ _e knows you come from money._ You chuckle to yourself and reach under the counter to grab a washcloth from a frothy bucket of soapy water. The shift ends soon and the counters are still dirty. You blow a stray piece of hair out of your face before walking around the counter to the other side. Making sure to lift the napkin dispensers, you wipe down the counters.You hum along to the radio playing in the background and sway, enjoying your time. You would be dancing by now if you were alone.

 

The bell above the door jingles as you move to the first booth. Your head pops up to see who it is and you're met with the cocky smile of one Kit Walker. He is a welder at a factory in town. You can't fathom what he works on but you know it's important for the war effort. _Whatever he is doing, his arms look amazing,_ you think to yourself as he sits in his regular stool at the counter. He was always your favorite customer, ever since the first day he walked in to the old place. The man held himself with confidence and had a wonderful shape outlined by a tight white shirt and workers' jeans. His brown eyes twinkle against pale skin and his dark hair was usually in need of a trim. He was often grungy from whatever job he worked that day. You wander over to him, not wanting to seem too eager to be his server, even if you usually are. Jude smiles from behind the counter at you and chuckles to herself. She grabs a pot of coffee to top off the fancy lady in the corner, her blond hair bouncing. You shoot her a glare as you walk behind the counter to where Kit has placed himself and reach for a mug and a different caraffe.

 

“Same as usual Kit?” you ask as you set the mug down in front of him and pour the hot dark liquid. “Coffee, turkey sandwich, and a piece of pie right?”

 

He notices you and grins, “As per usual, Y/N.” His eyes crinkle when he smiles, and it makes you blush. He was a regular customer before you worked here, but according to Jude he only comes on your shifts now. The woman was beautiful for her age but sometimes you wonder if she might be losing it, _I mean what is she... 70?_ He wouldn't only come to your shifts... Would he? You shrug inwardly as you scribble his ticket and stick it in the window for the cook.

 

You pick the wash cloth back up and go back to scrubbing the booths. The couple in the corner has left by now so you figure you'll restart there, aware that a pair of eyes is locked on to you. The other man at the counter gets up to leave, placing a generous tip for Jude on the table. She chuckles as she waves goodbye to him. The woman was a genius when she wanted something, and you make a mental note to ask her for lessons later as she flicks through the bills in her hands.

 

“Y/N I'm getting out of here. It's almost closing anyways. Mind locking up?” Jude is pocketing the tip and putting on her jacket already. She winks at you like she's letting you in on a big secret before she scurries out the door in to the night. You glance over at the clock, there's at least 45 minutes before closing. Sighing, you move on to the next table before the small ding of the order up bell interrupts you. You huff and stride toward the counter to serve Kit his food. Preoccupied, you trip and fall on your way to the window, thankfully with empty hands.

 

“Son of a bitch... ow...” you right yourself using the counter as support, massaging your hip where you made contact with the ground. As you stand you see Kit, halfway out of his seat gaping at you, concerned. You shrug and shake your head, “This happens all the time, honest,” and go to the order window to pick up the food. You tell the cook he can go for the night and put the plate in front of Kit, moving to the other end of the counter to get the keys. Once the cook leaves, you lock the front door and switch the sign to closed. You glance over your shoulder to study Kit, who is reading a newspaper from the counter and eating his food, and then go back to the booths.

 

“So...” Kit mumbles through a half full mouth, “How did you end up here?” he swallows and puts his sandwich down.

 

“Here as in here?” you point to the table you're cleaning, “Or heerrreee?” you turn to make a big sweeping motion over the entire diner, “because either way I walked”. Your face breaks in to a shit-eating grin. Waiting for him to react is torturous. It seems like it takes a century but he laughs at last. It's a warm, strong sound that echoes through the empty diner and it's infectious. You giggle and continue to wipe down the tables, only one left to go.

 

“You know what I mean. How did you end up working with Jude?” He takes a sip of his coffee and you can feel his eyes on your back, curious.

 

“Well...” you hate telling this story... but it's Kit. What harm was there? “When my poppa got drafted, it got harder to make the rent every month. So momma suggested I 'get a job and pay my keep'”. Your grip tightens on the washcloth as you finish the last table, thinking that the money problem would be solved if she could just cut back on the booze _._ “And so I ended up here. Jude put in a good word for me with boss man and I got hired the next day.” He looks pensive and takes another sip of his coffee before nodding and patting the stool next to him for you to come sit. You eye the seat, then him, trying to decide if this invitation was genuine.

 

“Come on now,” he smirks, “I don't bite, honest”. He pats the seat again and pushes his plate to the side so you have more wiggle room. You blush a soft pink and plunk down on the stool, kicking your shoes off and leaning in to the counter, bringing one foot in to your lap to massage it.

 

For the next hour you find yourself lost in conversation with the man, laughing at stories he's telling and sharing your own. He tells you he's from Massachusetts and moved into town for work. You crack jokes about driving in Boston. When he laughs, his entire face smiles, which you find charming. You feel like you could talk to him for hours, but before you could prove it you notice the clock behind you. It's nine o'clock and the diner should have empty thirty minutes ago.

 

“Shit,” you swear under your breath and jump up from your stool, stumbling as you try to slip on your heels, “We gotta split. If boss man comes by for something and sees I've let a customer stay this late past closing he'll have my head.” You watch his eyes fall, but then his face brightens. You can see the gears clicking in his head as he tries to think up a solution and you wonder what he's thinking.

 

He grabs your hand and leads you towards the front door, grabbing his coat off the coat tree,“Come on I know a place we can go”. The movement is so sudden you freeze, but he waits for a moment and looks back at you, “Unless you don't want to...”

 

You smile and take his bait, “I would love to but...” you drop his hand and pout, taking a lengthy dramatic pause, “We have to go out the back door”. The comical look of relief on his face is enough to send you in to a laughing fit, but that would be rude. You take his hand this time, and lead him through the kitchen, turning off all the lights in the diner as you do and dropping the keys off behind the counter again.

 

You turn to look at him as you grab your jacket and lead him out the back door, “Close your eyes”.

 

Standing in a dark alleyway, lit only by the street light in front of the diner, makes you shiver. It's eerie back here, and you swear you hear small scuffling noises. You had never liked it but with him there you felt at ease.

 

“Why?” he looks confused and you can't help noticing how cute the expression is.

 

“Can't have you knowing where the spare key is now can I?” you twirl your finger to signal him to turn.

 

You wait until his back is facing you before flipping over a pebble near the door to retrieve the key. You lock the cold slab tight before placing the small metal object in to the locked mail box on the wall. Boss man would get it tomorrow.

 

You trot back over to Kit and slide your hand in to his before gazing up at him and grinning, “Where to?”

 

Kit starts at the touch and then peers at you with a sly grin, “Do you enjoy dancing?”

 

You pause for a moment, trying to decide if you do or not, “Never been,” you remark, “Have you?”

 

He shakes his head, “Naw... But hell why not right? Might be fun,”. He grins wide, his whole face lighting up, “Think of it like an adventure!”

 

You giggle and he squeezes your hand as you both walk towards the street, making you blush. His hands are strange; solid from hard labor but soft. You could hold that hand forever, and you contemplate the logistics of such an undertaking as the two of you walk from the back alley to the street. You let go for a moment and pull a shiny cigarette case out of your jacket pocket. A friend had gotten it for you once upon a time when you had pointed it out at a store in the men's section. Nobody ever asked why you had a case meant for men and you were grateful for that. It looked better to you than the flowery shit they had for women, and it was more practical.

 

You light a cigarette and then hand the case to Kit, “Want one?”

 

He takes it and pulls a cigarette out, placing it in between his lips, “Thanks,” he mumbles as he lights it. You can't help appreciate what lovely lips he has and you wonder how soft they are. You take a drag of your cigarette and exhale slowly, trying to take your mind off of it before you blush again.

 

“So, where are we going anyways?” you flick the butt of your cigarette with your thumb as you step out on to the sidewalk, now lit by street lamps. “Not a dark alley where you'll murder me I hope”. You snicker at your own joke but you feel like an idiot. _God just... just stop talking Y/N. You sound like an idiot._

 

To your relief he snorts, “God no, just a bar that has a nice dance floor and strong drinks,” his eyes flash over to you, anxious, “You do drink, right?”

 

You pretend to be offended, “How could you? A real lady doesn't drink”. You pause for a moment “Unless it's whiskey”. Poking him in the ribs you turn your head to cringe at your second attempt at a lame joke.

 

He smiles over at you, “My kinda girl,” he says as he flicks the ash off the tip of his cigarette, “Bet I can drink you under the table.”

 

“Bet you could,” you whisper as you take another drag, “But I'm also smart enough to know my limit. I don't drink heavy on dates.” you empty your lungs of the smoke and flick the butt of your cigarette again; you're just trying to keep your hands busy at this point.

 

“Been on many dates?” inquires Kit, not looking at you and shoving his hand in his pocket.

 

 _Shit,_ “No,” you titter, “It's just a rule I've set for myself,”. You flick the cherry out of your cigarette by accident, “I think I've been on two dates, but I'm not even sure if they count,”. The cigarette is out so you throw the butt in to the street, “What about you? How many dates have you been on?”

 

He chuckles and takes one last drag before tossing his cigarette in to the street as well, “You'll laugh but I haven't been on any,” he shrugs, “Never wanted to”.

 

You look down at his hand as he grasps yours again and out of the corner of your eye you see his face turn a lovely shade of pink. You giggle as he leads you around the corner. The man interests you, everything from his stride to his smile is fascinating, _and crooked,_ you decide. Soon you are lost in him, taking in every detail. He notices, but just smiles and pretends not to, which you appreciate. He halts and drops your hand, making you frown. _Shit what did I do?_

 

“We're here,” he motions towards a grubby bar, “It's not much, but it's an experience,” he nods towards the door, “Ready?”

 

“Ready,” you reply as you take his hand in yours. The both of you take a deliberate step forward and push the door open.

 

 


End file.
